Free The Mind-Murders by Janwillem van de Wetering Page B

Like me."
    "Yes," de Gier said softly. "I'm sure you're right, adjutant. Maybe I shouldn't interfere."

9

    De Gier stood in front of CaféBeelema. His head rested against a lamppost.
    "How do you feel?" Grijpstra asked.
    "Constrained. In my throat, spreading to my lungs. Everything is closing up. My veins are narrowing, the blood no longer flows. I would like to shout, or cry perhaps, at the same time, I think. Do you have cigarettes on you?"
    "Cigars. There'll be cigarettes in the café All brands. Shall I get you some?"
    "No, I just thought I'd like to know. I don't smoke anymore. I'll stand here for a while. It'll pass and then it'll come again. I'm in a tunnel; I'm a worm, a pink worm, stretched, pulled on both sides. The sensation is painful and hopeless. I suffer, Grijpstra."
    "Poor fellow."
    De Gier pushed himself away from the lamppost.
    "Right. Hell is not forever. There are pauses. Without intermissions there would be no hell. If the experience were continuous, I'd get used to it. This way I can't. I'll suffer again later. Let's go."
    They went into the cafe* and greeted Titania who stood behind the bar, Zhaver who was playing with Kiran between the tables, and Borry who sat at the counter. Zhaver pulled on what was left of the cap and Kiran growled.
    "That's my cap," Grijpstra said. "That's an evil dog."
    Beelema jumped up.
    "I'm sorry, adjutant. Let me reimburse you. What did the cap cost you?"
    "Ten guilders, but what's money? Paper with figures printed on it. I just bought that cap. I liked it. Look at it now."
    Kiran dropped the slimy rag and grinned. Borry put up all his fingers and pointed at the register with his nose. Titania took out a ten-guilder note and gave it to Grijpstra.
    "With my apologies, adjutant," Beelema said, "but the dog is still young. A little playful, eh? I'm glad you could find the time to drop in. The city is empty today, everybody has gone to the beach to annoy the tourists. Those of us who remain should keep each other company. Can I offer you a drink?"
    "A beer," Grijpstra said and sank down on a bar stool. The beer soaked into his gulping throat. He replaced the empty glass. Titania refilled it. De Gier wandered about. A well-dressed middle-aged man came in and sat down at a table. He picked up the newspaper and glanced at Titania. Zhaver asked the customer what he would like to drink. The man didn't see Zhaver, he stared at Titania. Titania saw him but seemed unaware of his attention. The man put his hands on the table and raised himself slowly. He staggered to the bar. "Hello." His voice croaked. He was pale and his hands trembled.
    "Sir?" asked Titania.
    "Hello."
    Titania looked at Zhaver.
    Zhaver asked the man if he was all right. The man let go of the bar rail and began to rub his stomach.
    "Yes," he said. "No. Excuse me." He left, swaying slightly. He had trouble with the door handle.
    Grijpstra was impressed.
    "And your arms were down," he said to Titania. "You're beautiful indeed. You unnerved that man."
    "Maybe he was drunk," Beelema said soothingly. "It sometimes happens. We see it happen every now and then."
    "They ask for a drink and we give it to them," Zhaver said. "Then they ask for another. They keep on doing it every day. Slowly they turn into alcoholics. It's sad, but that's the way it sometimes goes."
    De Gier stood at the window. "He's going into Hotel Oberon."
    "They have a bar too," Titania said.
    "He's still on his feet, maybe he's all right."
    Several tourists entered the café, South Americans, with mustachios and gleaming teeth; they trailed a woman in a low blouse filled with trembling, soft, fertile flesh.
    The blouse's contents did not match the Titania's. Titania wasn't doing anything on purpose; she reached up, she had to, the bottles were on a high shelf. The gesture freed her breasts; the mustachioed gentlemen could see everything from the side, and those who were placed farther along the bar, from the other side. A moment is now, and now lasts